


We’re not friends (and we’re not lovers)

by SerotoninUp



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: And Lucifer knows this, Chloe doesn't like being called out on it though, Chloe makes dubious decisions when drinking, F/M, Light Angst, Lux (Lucifer TV), Making Out, Unresolved Sexual Tension, consent is important, idk where this is in the timeline but most likely season 2 or early season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerotoninUp/pseuds/SerotoninUp
Summary: It’s Tribe night at Lux; Chloe lets down her guard and asks Lucifer to dance with her.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 16
Kudos: 187





	We’re not friends (and we’re not lovers)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the lyrics to "Tempt My Trouble" by Bishop Briggs.

Lux is crowded tonight, but not uncomfortably so; Chloe is four cocktails in, and a pleasant fuzziness spreads through her. For a while she allows herself to get lost in the music. Her hair is loose, and it tickles the bare skin of her shoulders and back as she moves to the beat; the light touch sends shivers across her body. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on her skin, and the shine of the yellow lights in the ceiling above refracts off the shimmering gold fabric of her dress. She imagines that she's literally glowing; maybe she's turned into a star, a creature of light and fire, burning high up in the heavens. The heat generated by so many moving bodies around her only feeds the illusion, and she laughs at herself, knowing she must be more than a little tipsy to entertain such a strange thought and not caring in the least.

It's wonderful to not think, to not worry, to just _feel_.

And what she feels is—

Him.

As if she possesses some kind of sixth sense, her eyes find the balcony, just in time to see the elevator doors slide open. Lucifer steps into the club, all lean grace and dark eyes, looking like sin itself in his black suit and red shirt.

His gaze sweeps the floor, and of course, _of course_ , he notices her immediately (can he feel her presence the same way she feels his?). The corner of his mouth crooks up into a smile and his lips shape a word: _Detective_. And maybe it's just the alcohol talking, but as she watches him standing there, she's struck with the sudden realization that, no matter how hard she tries to hold him at arm's length, they'll never be _just friends_. Because if she's brutally honest with herself, friends don't look at each other like this. They don't _yearn_ for each other like this.

There's warmth between her legs and butterflies in her stomach as she lifts her hand and beckons him.

He makes his way down the stairs and across the floor, stopping now and again as someone greets him or touches his arm, his waist, his cheek. He's polite to everyone, but his eyes continuously return to Chloe's face, and as he comes closer and closer, the tension between them builds and builds; she imagines that if— _when—_ he finally touches her, she'll simply explode like a supernova.

He reaches for her, and she thinks that maybe he'll hesitate at the last second. She’s been putting out _don't-cross-that-line_ vibes for so long now, and she wouldn't blame him if he felt like she was suddenly sending him mixed signals. But he doesn't. One hand slides firmly down her back, resting easily just above her tailbone as if it belongs there, impossibly warm, devastatingly _real_. The other cups her elbow, his fingers brushing the back of her arm oh-so-gently. She stumbles a little bit, either from the booze or the sudden physical contact; she's not sure. As he moves into her space, she reflexively steadies herself, placing her hands against his chest.

"Detective," he murmurs. His voice washes over her, low and thrilling. He holds her close, barely refraining from pressing his body fully against hers. She wonders if he carries fire in his veins, if that's why he feels like he's burning against her, even through his suit and her dress and the inch of empty space that separates them. When she doesn't protest the sudden closeness, his hand slides up her arm to bury itself in her hair, and he drops his face towards her, resting his forehead against hers.

She smiles into the small, quiet space between them. "Lucifer."

"This is an unexpected pleasure," he says. He begins to move, slowly, in time with the music. A frisson of heat spreads through her body. She tilts her head back, looking up at him, noticing how his lips are slightly parted, his cheeks lightly flushed, his eyes impossibly dark, _wanting_. Her hands slide south, over his hips, then up the flat plane of his stomach, and down again to brush the tops of his thighs with her thumbs. She can't stop the small, knowing laugh that escapes her as he takes a sudden, sharp breath.

"It's Tribe night," she says simply.

"And I see you're enjoying my free drinks offer." He cocks an eyebrow at her, and she laughs again.

"It was Ella's idea," she explains. "You know I don't like abusing your generosity."

"Detective, you can take advantage of my generosity any time. And anything else you desire, of course." His tone is light, teasing.

"In that case..." she murmurs, sliding a hand up to tangle in his hair, and then she tugs him down to her, pressing her lips against his. She feels a thrill of victory at the surprised groan that catches in his throat. The hand in her hair grips the back of her neck with a desperate intensity; he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue parting her lips and sliding against her own, his mouth hot and fierce against hers.

The hand on her back slides lower; he splays his fingers across the curve of her ass, and she revels in the sensation, the warmth of his hand in such an intimate place. He breaks their kiss to trail his mouth down her throat, his lips burning a line between her jaw and collarbone, eliciting a soft whimper from her. Encouraged, he pulls her body closer, melding his hips to hers, and the hard heat of his cock presses firmly against the junction of her thighs.

" _Lucifer_ ," she gasps; the room spins, just a little bit, and she feels his triumphant smile curving against her throat. His mouth trails up, along her jawline, his lips brushing the delicate skin behind her ear.

"Yes, Detective?" he murmurs.

She doesn't allow herself time to think, afraid she'll change her mind if she pauses to consider her next words. "We should... we should take this upstairs," she whispers breathlessly. Her hands roam beneath his jacket, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of his belt buckle.

His entire body goes completely still. It's not an exaggeration; she could swear he's stopped breathing, that's how utterly motionless he is, like something carved from stone. Disoriented, she staggers a little bit in his arms, then lifts a tentative hand to his chin, cautiously turning his gaze to meet her own. 

"Lucifer? What's wrong?"

"Detective," he says, his voice suddenly hoarse. His hands come up to gently grip her wrists, guiding her questing fingers away from his body. His eyes are shuttered; she can't even guess at what he's feeling right now. "Regardless of how much I want to take you upstairs and into my bed right now—and please know that I _very_ much want to—I need you to be honest with me."

Her brows knit in confusion; he steps away from her, putting space between them, and she's suddenly cold, bereft of his presence.

"Detective. _Chloe_ ," he amends, and the sound of her actual name in his mouth brings home the seriousness of whatever odd situation is happening right now. "Would you be asking to come upstairs if you were sober?"

The question hits her like a bucket of cold water, and her stomach sours. She suddenly regrets the four drinks she's had, and the feeling only serves to fuel the bitterness of her response. "Right, because you've _never_ slept with someone who's drunk before," she bites out.

He blanches; she immediately knows she went too far.

"I'm sorry," she says, lifting a placating hand toward him. "Lucifer, I didn't—"

He cuts her off, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice. "Yes, I've slept with drunk people, but none of them spent considerable effort making their lack of interest so abundantly clear in the way that you always have, Detective," he hisses. "Quite the opposite, in fact." The words are a slap to the face, and Chloe can't even defend herself; he's only speaking the truth, after all. "So forgive me if your sudden _acquiescence_ raises some red flags."

She reaches out, catching his wrist even as he moves to turn away from her. 

"Wait," she says. "Lucifer."

She feels the tension thrumming through his body, the heat of it searing beneath her fingers, and for a moment she thinks he'll brush her off and leave anyway. But then his shoulders slump. He turns back toward her, closing the gap between them, and places his hands gently on her shoulders. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispers again. "You're just looking out for me, being a gentleman, and I'm acting like a hurt, rejected teenager or something." She wishes he would open his eyes and look at her. He doesn't.

"Chloe," he says softly, "When— _if_ you decide to say yes to me, I want to be absolutely sure that it's _you_ saying it, and not whatever terrible alcohol you've been drinking."

She can't help laughing a little at that, and he smiles at the sound.

"Hey," she says, tilting her head back to look up at him properly. The motion makes her a little dizzy, and she knows he's right; she probably _has_ had a bit too much. "Look at me."

He finally does, and she raises an eyebrow questioningly. "We good?"

"Of course, Detective." He straightens, and graciously offers her his arm. "Let's go find the rest of your deplorable Tribe, shall we?"

She smiles up at him; together, they make their way towards the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually an excerpt from a fic I started a while back and then abandoned, which is why it begins and ends a little abruptly (sorry about that), but at least I was able to recycle this scene into something new. Thanks for reading!


End file.
